


Impressions

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: The Ties That Bind [1]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Gen, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, ancient Engwith, this fic is built on Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 08:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: The old soulmaster chuckles under his breath, then coughs. “Worse than children…”“Much worse,” Thaos agrees, amused.“Much more troubled,” the girl says quietly, glancing aside to avoid his eyes.Though her comment was obviously directed at him, Thaos ignores it. Really, he thinks in disdain; as if she has just discovered what adulthood means. Well, she has to already know that. Being a soulmistress means she has looked into people’s minds and souls, means she has seen more than her age suggests she could have. Perhaps, he muses, that also means she can notice what escapes others’ attention.(Or: being a scholar in ancient Engwith has never been more difficult.)





	Impressions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rannadylin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rannadylin/gifts).



Berath’s supposedly most gifted apprentice – and assistant – is a slender, fair-haired woman. In the plain white robe, she looks like a barely-adult girl.  
  
Thaos lifts his eyebrows. “Aren’t you too young to be here?” His intent is not malicious; he is merely surprised that Berath would recommend someone as inexperienced as her for such an important project.  
  
Her brow furrows for a moment as she stares at him, and then she smiles politely. “I will take it as a compliment to my youthful looks,” she says calmly. “But I have passed the final trials seven years ago, and if master Berath considers me skilled enough for this, I am not going to question his judgement.”  
  
The old soulmaster smiles faintly. The girl remains serious, watching Thaos closely; not challenging, simply trying to tell him that maybe he underestimated her.  
  
“I apologise.” Thaos bows; it is all too easy, a habit formed during the years he has spent at court. That does not mean it cannot be honest. “My remark was uncalled for. I should have at least waited to learn something of you before forming an opinion.”  
  
“Don’t we all do that, sometimes?” Her smiles shifts; it becomes smaller, but more genuine. “Apology accepted.” She puts a hand over her heart and bows her head briefly in a formal greeting. “Elwena ix Metheven. It is a… pleasure to meet you,” she adds, her voice nothing but kind.  
  
Thaos shakes his head lightly. “I don’t think I have ever been scolded so charmingly.” He is a courtier, he knows how to deal with things like that, how to smooth down ruffled feathers. “Thaos ix Arkannon,” he says, mirroring her bow.  
  
The old soulmaster chuckles under his breath, then coughs. “Worse than children…”  
  
“Much worse,” Thaos agrees, amused. But there is another meaning to his words: he is here on Woedica’s authority, and therefore Berath cannot order him around.  
  
“Much more troubled,” the girl says quietly, glancing aside to avoid his eyes.  
  
Though her comment was obviously directed at him, Thaos ignores it. Really, he thinks in disdain; as if she has just discovered what adulthood means.  
  
Well, she has to already know that. Being a soulmistress means she has looked into people’s minds and souls, means she has seen more than her age suggests she could have. Perhaps, he muses, that also means she can notice what escapes others’ attention.  
  
And then he focuses on their work and never spares the girl a second thought.

* * *

  
  
In his heart and soul, Thaos has been faithful to Woedica for years, ever since he became her advisor. But his body has its own demands, and with how much strain they are under, he sleeps much better after an evening with a woman. It means nothing; just a way to relax, like a hot bath or like taking a sleeping draught. And since it is pretty much the same for her, it is a mutually satisfying agreement.  
  
She usually leaves well before dawn, but yesterday they met late and she decided to take his invitation – just a common courtesy – and stay. He watches as she puts on her gown, and she winks at him. And then she freezes mid-motion as someone knocks on the door.  
  
Thaos nods at her and walks to the door, ready to leave. She can finish dressing and get out later; the chambers are sealed by an adra stone instead of a key, and while anyone can leave, only he can get in; one of the perks of having cipher skills. It is not that they have to keep this arrangement a secret, but Thaos firmly believes private life is called so for a reason.  
  
Slowly, he opens the door. Elwena is there, pale and tired, and obviously worried; he must have overslept, for the first time in his life.  
  
“Master Berath send me to check on you, and I’ve been worrying that you might be sick and…” she notices the other woman – and the colour of her hair, almost the same as Woedica’s – and blushes. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” She backs away in haste, obviously embarrassed by this much more than he is.  
  
Thaos flashes a quick goodbye smile at his lover and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
Elwena is leaning against the wall a few paces away, waiting, her cheeks red. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t…”  
  
Thaos waves his hand. “It’s fine.” He gestures forward, and they start walking down the hall.  
  
She is avoiding his gaze, her face still flushed. That is not quite the reaction he expected.  
  
“Honestly, I thought you would disapprove,” he remarks.  
  
Her head jerks, as if his voice startled her, and she looks up. “Why would I?” she asks quietly, genuinely surprised. “There’s nothing wrong in… seeking solace. Not with what we are preparing to do. Nothing wrong in wanting to… forget.” She is looking away again; no longer embarrassed, but rather as if she was trying to hide something. “I’m sorry. I’m babbling, aren’t I?” She glances up with an apologetic smile and immediately casts her eyes down at the stone tiles beneath her feet.  
  
Thaos realises that there is only one reason why she would attempt to hide her thoughts so desperately while speaking of solace. That she has none.  
  
Throughout the day, he watches her discreetly, both with his eyes and soul. She is calm and quiet and focused, always taking her time in order to do things right. Now, when he pays attention, he can see why. She waits a breath of two to stop her hands from trembling. She closes her eyes not to let the tears show. She reads the formula from the scroll again because she was too distressed to process it the first time.  
  
Gradually, it dawns on him that she will have to witness all they are going to do, from the beginning to the very end – and to see her own family turned to dust. The fact that they will probably agree and go willingly changes nothing. And she has no one to talk to about it all, because how can she tell them she was ordered to prepare their… Not death; worse than that. That will end their entire existence.  
  
Thaos is aware of this; has been, from the beginning. He accepts it, and he thinks that this terrible price is perhaps worth paying; he agrees with the vision of his queen and her scholars. And even so, he finds it difficult to sleep at night. He cannot imagine how it must be for her.  
  
He is not very merciful; he has never been. But neither has he been cruel, and this – this is torture. And she is – younger than him, much younger, and she should not be forced to do it. Not to her own kin, at least.  
  
Next time she hesitates, carefully wrapping her fingers around a piece of adra before lifting it, he gently touches her soul. Her hands jerk, and if the stone was not resting on the table, she would have dropped it.  
  
When she turns to look at him, her gaze is bitter and resentful. Thaos accepts the silent reproach; yes, he should not have done so, since she did not ask for it. He nods at her, very lightly so that the others would miss it but she could see that he understands.  
  
She shakes her head and returns to work. But for the rest of the day, she refuses to speak to him.  
  
In the early evening, when Berath decides that his team has done enough – they will save more time by getting some sleep than by working day and night and endlessly correcting mistakes they would make – Elwena is the last to leave. She is meticulously putting everything back into place: scrolls into leather cases, adra shards into cushioned boxes. At first, Thaos assumed she is used to this, being Berath’s youngest assistant; then he thought she liked order and preferred to tidy up herself, and he never bothered with it again.  
  
Now he watches her quietly from the threshold. She is meditating, using those simple movements to calm herself before she goes home. If she goes at all. She has stayed the night in her small room beside the laboratories a few times before; Thaos supposed it was for research. After today, he know it was because she did not find enough courage to go home and face her family.  
  
She will probably rebuke him for this attempt as well. But he remembers how she looked like when they met – her smile, the slight playfulness that shined through her seriousness only briefly before it was extinguished for good. And it really costs so little to offer some comfort…  
  
“Do you need help?” he asks, quietly, trying not to scare her.  
  
Elwena freezes. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” Her voice is muffled – strained – and she is standing with her back to him, face hidden.  
  
“Wasn’t it you who said that none of us really is?”  
  
Slowly, she turns towards him. She is almost as pale as her gown, there are shadows under her eyes – and her eyes are wet, but she is not crying. Not yet.  
  
“Leave. Please.”  
  
She does not want to go home because there is too much on her mind – on her soul – and she has no one to share it with. Thaos is not certain he wants to discuss it either – but he is willing to listen. She will probably only cry, anyway.  
  
“Do you want some wine for sleep?” he asks, bluntly enough so that she would understand despite her anxiety, but in a gentle tone, at least.  
  
“I…” Suddenly her eyes narrow in focus. She studies his face for a long time… and then she looks at his mind, tries to peer into his soul. “Why?” she asks at last, unable to find an answer in his thoughts – to get to them at all.  
  
Thaos wants to shrug, but stops himself right in time. “Why not?”  
  
“You don’t seem very… charitable,” she explains reluctantly.  
  
A corner of his lips curls up. “You wanted to say I’m heartless? Be my guest.”  
  
“No,” she says, looking into his eyes intently, and he wonders how much of his soul was she able to see. “No, not heartless. Sleep would find you more easily if you were.”  
  
But Thaos is not here so that they could talk about him. “So?”  
  
Slowly, she nods. “I… I…” She looks away. “Thank you,” she mutters at last.  
  
He holds out his hand. “Come on, then.”  
  
Hesitantly, she takes it. “It’s… very kind of you.”  
  
“It’s just…” He breaks off, because this is the answer. It would be unjust to leave her alone, and since he is Woedica’s servant, it is his responsibility. Or at least something along those lines. What does it matter? What will it matter, in a few weeks?  
  
She squeezes his hand lightly before letting go of it. “That’s why it matters,” she says quietly.  
  
They do not go to his chambers, in the end. He takes the wine and she brings two cups, and they go to the observatory. Elwena does not talk, just sits beside him quietly; there is no need to speak when she knows he understands anyway. After the second cup, she shifts closer and rests her head on his shoulder – and he lets her. Why not?  
  
It is not friendship – and it will not have enough time to grow into that. It is definitely not attraction; he was never going to offer anything more than conversation. It is – maybe she is right, and he is not completely heartless. Or maybe it struck some chord within him that she bothered to look at his soul, despite all. What does it matter?  
  
“Thaos?” She asks, glancing up at him, her eyes bright from all the wine; she is clearly not used to drinking. “When it’s over… Will you be there when I… go, too?” She sounds like a frightened but hopeful child.  
  
He looks down at her. “Why?”  
  
“Why not?” Her faltering voice is unnaturally cheerful.  
  
Thaos can sense the thoughts she is trying to hide so frantically that they are all she is focusing on, besides staying calm: that when it is over, she will have no one else, because even her mentor, Berath, will be gone. As a reward for all she is doing, she was given a choice – and she chose to lay down her life because she is afraid of how empty her world will become. Woedica praised her dedication. He is looking at the girl now and all he can see is despair.  
  
He puts an arm around her shoulders. It costs so little. Just one move. Why not?  
  
“I will.” No sentiments, no attempts at comfort that would inevitably fail; only a simple promise.  
  
“When that happens,” she says quietly, her head dropping onto his shoulder again, “I will be proud to have called you my friend.”  
  
They are not friends, and will not have time to become ones. But it costs him nothing to stay silent and let her believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
> This author replies to comments.



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